


Cry

by CureDigiQueen



Series: Ducktales Stuff [7]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 20:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CureDigiQueen/pseuds/CureDigiQueen
Summary: 10 years is a long time. Sometimes the void of space is too much for even the strongest of Ducks.





	Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, we all know what this is in response to.  
> I wrote this a while ago. Go figure.  
> Because we saw Della’s tears, what, twice. I feel like over the courses of 10 years she probably cried more than that.
> 
> But let’s be real here. If she never got lost she would be just as disastrous a mom as Donald is an Uncle (The boys would be fine and loved either way). Her boys are so much like her. This whole families a mess.

Della Duck never cried. She was tough, fearless and filled with endless optimism. Ducks didn’t cry, especially these Ducks, who were half McDuck temper and mettle.  
Della didn’t cry, except for when she had to say goodbye to her parents, their bodies being lowered into the ground, never to return. She cried ugly tears and was inconsolable. The only comfort was Donald was still with her.  
Della didn’t cry, except for maybe a little when Aunt Daphne and Uncle Goostave died in a freak accident. Part of her wondered if her and Donald’s luck had something to do with such a lucky person meeting a horrible end.  
Della didn’t cry, except at final goodbyes.  
Della tried not to cry. She didn’t admit to anyone she cried.  
And this wasn’t a goodbye.  
Except, she cried herself to sleep the first night after she amputated her leg, which now somehow hurt worse now that it was gone, and she was cold and had barely been able to climb her way into the ruins of the spear to sleep, curled up in a chair. She had blinked back her tears, held back screams as she tore through her own flesh, but the pain.  
When she woke the next morning she pushed through and crafted a leg, and she focused on the disgusting taste of black licorice.  
Except, she blinked back tears when she realized her sons would have certainly hatched by now, a couple weeks after she had crashed, when she was still working on getting communications working. But she steeled herself, reminding her she’d been in worse and this would be a good story for when they were older.  
She nearly broke down after 5 months, when she realized that it was going to be a while before she could get home. It had already been so long.  
Donald had been right before but never this right.  
She had nearly started crying when she realized it had been a year… and later that same week when she noticed her one chance had flown away.  
She had let it go, and cost herself more time on the moon.  
But she reassured herself that it meant Uncle Scrooge was looking for her, so it was only a matter of time. Another year at most.  
She never saw another ship.  
The days blended together. A mark before bed, an eye on the sun on the earth, watching it spin round and round. Tears had no place here.  
She threw herself into her work, she had nothing else to do (and if she didn’t she would have gone stir crazy, she would have been forced to face the facts).  
Della hadn’t lived this long being a downer, cautious. That was Donald’s job.  
If only Donald was here to do it.  
Occasionally she wondered what Donald would have her do. She’d wonder what he was doing now instead. What her boys were doing, and Uncle Scrooge.  
But Donald wasn’t here, and she had left her twin alone, looking after her boys.  
She briefly considered the fact he thought she was dead, but it made her feel so guilty she quickly pushed the feeling aside. He couldn’t give up on her. If she didn’t have him, who did she have? But she secretly knew it. Everyone else thought she was dead.  
Uncle Scrooge would probably grumble at the waste of money when she got home.  
She never considered how much he would spend. But she had never thought it was possible to drain the money bin. The mere idea of it seemed ludicrous.  
When the boys were old enough to start school Della wondered a bit more about them, but she didn’t have much to go off of.  
Once she realized the boys were the same age she was she and Donald were when they lost their parents. That was the once in a blue moon day where Della allowed herself to cry.  
Oh, what would they think of her now? She didn’t mean to make her boys like her.  
She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse they had never met her. She supposed they couldn’t miss who they never knew.  
But she knew, if only briefly. And she missed them all terribly.  
She didn’t do anything the rest of that day but reread her junior woodchuck guidebook and focused on the taste of her black licorice, the sound of her metal leg on the ground.  
The next day she dried her tears and got back to work.  
Ducks don’t back down.  
Nothing can stop Della Duck.


End file.
